


Required Course

by Gemini_Sweet



Category: Avatar: Legend of Korra
Genre: Alternate Universe - Basketball, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Bending, F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-28
Updated: 2018-07-22
Packaged: 2019-03-25 07:46:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,581
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13829679
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gemini_Sweet/pseuds/Gemini_Sweet
Summary: In order to graduate from Republic City University, certain courses are required – even for the busy CEO of Future Industries, Asami Sato.As a player on the RCU women’s basketball team, senior and team captain Korra Waters and the rest of her squad are “required” to take a basketball course every fall semester.When serendipity rewards Asami’s procrastination, she discovers that a university education isn’t just about getting the degree.





	1. Registration

Asami Sato growled in frustration as she scrolled down the list of course offerings, her black, thick-framed reading glasses slipping down her nose. She pushed them back up absently as she briefly reviewed each option for the fall semester. A lock of ebony hair trailed down her alabaster cheek, having escaped the loose braid that trailed down the back of the lavender tank top covering her curved torso. Her red metallic laptop hummed quietly on top of the covers in her lap, while the notepad and pen on the red and gold fabric beside her remained blank.

It was her final year at Republic City University, and all Asami had left to take were two upper level mechanical engineering courses, her thesis in business management, and one required course she’d repeatedly put off taking in the hopes that she could convince the dean of administration to approve her waiver. The final denial (which she’d received in the middle of the summer) was on the desk on the other side of her bedroom, signed in bold, red ink.

“Do I _look_ like I need to take a P.E. course?” Asami mumbled to herself for the umpteenth time as she perused the online catalog.

She thought she was fairly fit. After all, she’d been taking martial arts courses since she was a little girl. She ran three miles each day, took the stairs at work whenever she could, and was _complimented_ on her health status by her doctors and dentist twice a year. Since her father’s sudden death from a stroke, she’d requested x-rays, CT scans and MRIs every year, just to make certain there weren’t any lurking surprises.

And, she’d looked absolutely stunning in that red dress at last week’s fundraising gala.

Unfortunately, being healthy wasn’t the same as spending money and time to take a course to learn about being healthy. Actually, two courses, as she had to take a _general_ physical education course _and_ a course in a sport or activity. She hadn’t minded the general course, really, as she’d taken in online during the last summer session. The sport/activity course, however, was a lab course – physical attendance was required.

The problem was _time_. She’d already lost two years of school when her father died. Now, Asami was running an international company; her research and development department was stagnant; she was negotiating two contracts that could keep them funded for the next five years; and she was determined to complete her degree in engineering this year. She didn’t need the degree – after all, Future Industries was her company. But, so many people assumed she was only CEO because she’d inherited the business after her father’s death – not because she actually _knew_ anything about engineering or business.

She knew the degrees would garner her a little more respect. They wouldn’t eliminate the bias against women in her field, but they would help improve the industry’s perspective of her. She’d already started reaping the benefits when word spread that she’d earned the fifth _ever_ “A” in the impossible-to-please Doctor Lee’s junior course. But, in order to get the degree she had to graduate; and, in order to graduate, she had to find a P.E. course that fit into her hectic schedule.

Asami clicked back to the main catalog page to refresh the course options. Midnight was the deadline to sign-up for classes. It was after 10pm, but other students had also procrastinated, dropping and adding classes as they planned their next four months of existence. As she filtered for early and evening classes with openings, she hoped something would open up that didn’t end after 8a or begin before 7p. With so much time required for her senior engineering projects, she simply couldn’t take any weekend courses.

The list populated, and Asami sorted by start time. Her green eyes widened behind her polycarbonate lenses when a Monday/Wednesday course from 5:30a to 7a appeared at the top of the list. Clicking on it for details, she saw one opening out of 15. She hurriedly checked the box to add the course, biting her lip as she waited for the system to process her request.

“Woo-hoo!” She shouted to the empty house, raising both hands in the air as the course was added to her fall semester schedule. Asami selected the “Pay Now” option, entered her FI credit card number, and printed out the receipt and the schedule to give to her secretary in the morning.

“Finally,” she yawned, taking off her glasses as she closed her laptop. She laid the computer on the bed next to the abandoned notepad. She placed her glasses on the burnt ash nightstand, turned off the red and gold stained glass lamp, and wiggled down under the covers. She sighed as her muscles relaxed from the stressors of the day and sleep quickly washed over her.

On Monday, she would start her final year of her undergraduate education with Basketball 1101.


	2. First Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Asami meets Korra.

The rest of the week and the weekend passed fairly quickly. Syllabi were downloaded. Asami’s paper calendar was filled and color-coordinated with syllabi, book jackets, notebooks and folders. Her phone calendar was updated and synced with all of her other devices. She spent Saturday evening outlining the first two chapters of each text, including the textbook for her basketball class. Although, like most lab books, it was written to be _performed_ , not studied. Still, she dutifully jotted down definitions of unfamiliar terms like “jump stop”, “drop step” and “star drill”.

She liked to walk to a new classroom a day or two beforehand, so she knew the location and how long it took to get to class. This semester, the only classroom and/or building she had never been to was Gymnasium B. Fortunately, it was also the closest class to her house, according to the campus map. Her small one-story home was directly across the street from the outdoor practice facilities and the Athletics Building.

She’d decided to purchase the home when she couldn’t find any reasonable rental properties close to campus. Living in the dorms and dealing with roommates or suitemates was out of the question for her demanding schedule, and parking on campus was both limited and outrageously expensive. It was cheaper to buy the little weather-beaten, single-story woodframe house and have it remodeled and modestly furnished. Two bedrooms (one converted to a weight room with punching bag hanging from reinforced beams), one-and-a-half baths, and a detached two-car garage in the back.

Her neighbors were both professors, living in homes owned by the university as part of their salary. It was generally a safe area. The street was a traffic nightmare on game days – but on most nights the fields and buildings were quiet and she could study and work in peace. Everything she needed on the sprawling campus was no more than a 30-minute walk away from her front door.

Sunday morning, Asami ran her three miles around the campus, as usual. Instead of going directly back home, she crossed the street and headed to the Athletics Building. It was a huge complex: two stories of gymnasiums, Olympic-sized swimming pools, physical therapy facilities, weight rooms, equipment rooms, batting cages, locker rooms, an indoor track and field area, administrative offices, and a museum honoring the accomplishments of athletic alumni. It was a small geographical part of the four square blocks that also included the football, basketball, tennis, and baseball stadiums.

The gymnasiums were on the “back”-side of the Athletic Building, the side closest to her house and the baseball stadium. Asami easily identified the covered breezeway that connected the entrances to the natatorium and the gymnasiums. Even from the wide concrete walkway she could smell the chlorine in the humid summer air. She turned right toward the large, metal, gold-painted double-doors of the gymnasium. Unfortunately, when she attempted to open the doors she discovered they were locked.

Peeking through the pig-chicken-wired safety glass within the doors, Asami could see a wide hallway ending with a huge, snarling mural of a saber-toothed moose lion (the university’s mascot) bursting through the bricks with horns ablaze in gold and white flames. She could see more sets of gold double-doors (at least four), but she couldn’t read the signs above them from her angle. Disappointed, but satisfied she at least knew how long it took to get to the building in the morning, she walked back to her house for a shower and a bite to eat before she dove into blueprints.

Monday morning found Asami Sato standing at the still-locked doors to the gymnasiums of the Athletics Building at 5:10a. She’d left her house at 5a in a fitted t-shirt, running shorts and no makeup, hair pulled into a low ponytail, pulling a wheeled suitcase behind her. She now leaned against a support column, her suitcase between her feet, one arm crossed over her stomach, her free hand rapidly typing responses to easy-fix e-mails that had accumulated overnight.

At 5:15 she heard the rhythmic jingle of keys approaching from the sidewalk behind her. She closed the app on her phone and locked it before slipping it into the secure inner pocket of her suitcase. She pulled out her paper copy of her class schedule, just in case, and zipped the luggage shut. The CEO pasted her customary polite smile to greet the overworked and underpaid facilities worker coming to open the building for the day.

Instead of the expected RCU employee in khakis and an embroidered white polo, Asami was greeted by a pair of sleepy blue eyes and the most muscular, gorgeous, bronzed shoulders and arms she’d ever seen grace a human being. The right bicep was ringed with a Water Tribe symbol tattooed in black ink. A gold-and-off-white lanyard with about a dozen keys hung from the nape of a chocolate, chin-length bob, the keys bouncing against modest breasts (obviously contained by a sports bra) under a blue tank top.

The tank top clung to a flat stomach, defined obliques easily visible underneath the fitted fabric. The blue top was tucked into a pair of white double-meshed shorts that stopped an inch or so above the knee, accenting the lines of well-developed muscle extending from hairless thighs. Smooth, bronze legs continued into white crew socks; a pair of high tops in multiple shades of blue completed the outfit.

Asami felt something stir within her chest and between her legs that she hadn’t felt since … well, she couldn’t remember. Definitely before her father passed and her life had become consumed by work. She had to squeeze her nails into her palm to prevent herself from biting her bare bottom lip as admiration and desire washed over her. This woman was beautifully handsome without a stitch of makeup: skin flawless, eyes naturally shadowed, lips plump, cheeks defined, nose rounded – every feature strong and well-balanced with just a touch of softness – including the thick lashes surrounding her wide blue eyes.

_Those eyes_ , Asami thought, staring helplessly into the wide pools of ocean blue.

Those eyes stared back for what seemed like an eternity, the woman seemingly rooted to the pavement. Dark brown lashes fluttered, and the surprised expression turned to one of confusion as eyebrows furrowed.

“Hi,” the blue-eyed woman said.

“H-hello,” Asami stammered, mentally groaning at how weak she sounded. A greeting like that could kill a contract before negotiations even started.

“Can I … help you?” the woman asked, cocking her head to the side like a cute puppy.

“Um, y-yes.” Asami stood up straight from the column, nearly stumbling over the suitcase between her feet in the process. “I have class at 5:30 in Gymnasium B.”

The woman lifted an eyebrow. “Are you sure?”

“I-I think so,” Asami stammered, suddenly unsure of what she was certain of only seconds prior. She extended her arm, showing the piece of paper with her weekly schedule on it, downloaded directly from the university’s registration page.  “That’s what my schedule says.”

“Let me see?”

She nodded as the woman walked closer, noticing that she was taller than the beautiful stranger (not unusual, really). Their fingers brushed as the woman gently took the paper out of her nervous grip. Asami could feel her heart racing from the brief contact. _Asami Sato, pull yourself together!_

“Huh,” the woman said, shrugging after perusing the folded paper for a few seconds. “Okay.”

The blue-eyed woman handed the paper back to Asami, holding it so that there was no accidental contact this time. She smiled, a warm smile that revealed soft laugh lines at the corners of her lips.

“Well, Miss Asami Sato, you’re in the right place,” she continued as she walked past Asami to the locked double doors. “I’m Korra, by the way. Korra Waters.”

“Nice to meet you, Korra,” Asami replied, grabbing the handle of her suitcase as she watched triceps twitch as Korra leaned over to turn a key in the lock above the handle. She noticed for the first time the blue drawstring bag with the white whorls of the Southern Water Tribe flag hung loosely against the woman’s broad, muscular back. “And, please, call me Asami.”

“Okay. Asami.” Korra pulled open the door, pulled out the key and stood up. Blue eyes shone as she flashed a lopsided grin. Asami was fairly certain her heart stopped beating. “Nice to meet you, too.”

Asami mumbled a shy “thank you” as she walked into the air-conditioned building in front of Korra. She stopped a few feet in front of the entrance, reading the signs on the walls. She jumped a little as the hall echoed from the force of the heavy door slamming shut.

“Sorry,” Korra apologized, catching up to her. “Habit.”

“It’s okay,” Asami said. She pointed up to the large signs over the two set of double doors to her right. “Both doors go to Gymnasium B?”

“Yep,” Korra said, already moving to unlock the doors furthest away from the main entrance. “Actually, I could use some help setting up. If you don’t mind?”

“Not at all,” Asami replied. She followed Korra through the unlocked doors. This time, Korra held the door as it swung closed behind them, reducing its deafening thud to a resounding click.

They were in what looked like a typical gym. Lacquered wooden floor boards with various lines painted on it were bracketed by huge wooden cabinets bolted into the walls. Another saber-toothed moose lion (this one bursting through flying, broken boards) was painted in the center of the court and protected by layers of varnish. A fiberglass-backed basketball goal jutted out from the brick walls on each short end, a scoreboard of light bulbs arranged in figure-eights above each. Four white-painted wooden-backed goals were suspended above the wooden cabinets, two on each long side of the court. They were held by a chain so the baskets were unusable; Asami noted the wire cables of some sort of winch system.

Korra made a bee-line for the closest set of cabinets. At the far end of the cabinet, she squatted down to the first row and reached inside a depression in the wood. A metal handle extended from the depression, followed by a “thunk” and a rumble as shelves began to separate from the wall.

“There’s a handle on your end,” Korra pointed out.

Understanding, Asami abandoned her suitcase and mimicked Korra’s actions on the handle on her end. It took a second, solid tug to pull the handle hard enough to release the shelves. When Asami’s end was free, Korra started shuffling back. Asami shuffled with her until they’d lined up the bench with a line of tape on the floor. Three rows of benches were exposed, ready for spectators (or students, in this case).

“There we go,” Korra said standing up, brushing her palms together to knock off the dusty grit. “Thanks.”

“Glad I could help,” Asami smiled. “Anything else?”

“Just need the carts,” Korra said, shaking her head. “They’re in the locker room.”

“Oh, good! I was hoping we had access to the locker room.”

“Yep. You have a lock?”

“Yes,” Asami answered, following the shorter woman back into the hallway, rolling suitcase in hand.

“Good,” Korra answered. “Better safe than sorry.”

“Are there a lot of thefts?” Asami asked.

“Not really. But, everyone uses a lock, so….” Korra paused as she leaned over to unlock another set of double doors. These were not as heavy as the gym and outer doors. There wasn’t a latch on either door, just a dead bolt that extended from one door and into the other. The muscular woman quickly opened the door with the keyhole and propped it open with her butt as she slid the surface mount bolts free at the top and bottom of the receiving door.

“Mmhmm.” Asami caught herself staring as the edge of the gold-painted door pressed between impressive, round glutes as Korra stretched to the top of the door frame, then slid into a squat. Powerful quadriceps and hamstrings flexed with ease as the woman moved. The CEO looked away and took a deep breath, hoping her guide wouldn’t see the flush she felt creeping across her face. _Stop being a creep, Asami._

“You okay?”

“Hmm?” Asami turned her head to see Korra holding the door open, waiting for her to pass through with her luggage. “Oh! Sorry. I, uh, got distracted.”

“By what?”

“Just … a lot on my mind,” Asami said, focusing on reaching the next set of double doors. They were similar to the ones behind them, but there weren’t any keyholes.

Korra jogged ahead to pull open the right-side door for Asami, keys jangling. “This early? The only thing I’m thinking about is my bed.”

_Oh, I am, too._ Asami laughed, a bit louder than she intended amongst the rows of golden lockers with vented doors. “I don’t have that luxury, unfortunately.”

“Oh, right,” Korra said. “I’m so sorry. I can’t imagine how hard it’s been for you.”

Asami looked over to see genuine concern in those soft blue eyes. In the past four years, she’d learned how to quickly determine sincerity from polite bullshit. “Thank you,” she said warmly, offering a small smile. She turned her head back to the rows of metal, separated by long wooden benches bolted into the floor. “Is there a designated section for each class?”

“Nope.  First-come, first-served. They’re all the same. Though, I’d recommend this row.” Korra walked down to the next row of wooden benches. “Out of view of the main entrance, far enough from the showers so nothing mildews, and not too close to the bathroom stalls. ‘Cuz, well….” She shrugged. “Shit happens.”

Asami laughed, again louder than she expected. She was certain Korra could see her blushing, even in the horrible fluorescent lighting. “Duly noted,” she chuckled, turning down the indicated aisle.

“Not to be rude, but….” Korra rubbed the back of her neck, the muscles in her forearm flexing. “How’d you get in this class?”

“I got lucky,” Asami said, opening a locker. Wads of old gum were stuck to the inside of the door. She wrinkled her nose and closed it. “Someone dropped at the last minute.”

“Dropped? We can’t-” Korra’s eyebrows arched as something clicked. “Ohhhh. I guess the rumors were true.”

“Rumors?” Asami finally found an unclaimed locker that didn’t have old gum stuck to the door or abandoned clothes wadded in a corner. She was pleased to see it was locker 314.

“Yeah.” They both turned their heads as they heard a door slamming shut. “I’d better get the carts. See you in the gym.”

“Okay.” Asami listened to Korra’s keys jangle off to another part of the locker room. A bolt clicked, and then she heard squeaking wheels and banging, along with a muffled curse. She smiled as she made certain her phone was on silent. She pulled her hand towel, spiral notebook with mechanical pencil and ballpoint pen stuck in the binding, matching folder (into which she stuck her physical copy of her schedule), basketball textbook, water bottle, and combination lock out of the suitcase. She shoved the bag into the locker, locked it, and gathered her supplies.

She made a quick detour to the bathroom area. A long wall of mirrored panels allowed Asami to assess her appearance. She felt naked without her makeup, but it was late summer so she didn’t look washed out. She frowned when she thought of how long Korra’s shorts were in comparison to her dark grey running shorts, the hem of which stopped only about two inches below her butt cheeks. Asami pursed her lips as she considered just how good her long legs looked in them. Nodding her head in approval, she pivoted on her heel and retraced her steps back to Gymnasium B.

One door was propped open with a rubber wedge when she arrived. There were voices – all female voices – echoing out into the hall, along with rhythmic thuds interspersed with squeaks. Peeking her head into the door, she saw six or seven women in loose t-shirts and double-mesh shorts in various colors with coordinated high-tops. Most were about her height, but two were a good head taller than herself. They were talking and bouncing ( _dribbling_ ) basketballs, taking shots from various positions around the basket closest to the door. The scoreboard at the far end was on, the clock apparently counting down to the start of class. She didn’t see Korra among the women.

“WHOOP!”

Asami saw something orange out of the corner of her eye and instinctively held up her books to shield her face. The ball bounced off harmlessly, though she dropped her water bottle in the process.

“You okay?”

She lowered her books to see a fair-skinned woman with freckles, gold eyes, and jet black hair jogging over to her. The woman scooped up the offending basketball as she approached.

“I’m fine.” Asami smiled, picking up her water bottle. “I’ve been hit with harder.”

“Quick reflexes,” the woman complimented. She propped the ball under one arm and put her free hand on her other hip. “You looking for something?”

“No,” Asami replied, eyebrows furrowed. “I’m in this class.”

“In _this_ class?” the woman asked.

“Yes,” Asami said, pulling out her printed schedule.

“Yo!” Another woman approached. She was one of the taller women, with short cropped brown hair and grass green eyes. “Aren’t you Asami Sato?”

“Yes, I am,” Asami replied, pulling her features into a polite smile.

“No way!” Another woman came over, about her height, with sharp features and darker, amber eyes than the first girl. Her hair was black, but a streak of platinum blonde extended from just above her left temple. “ _The_ Asami Sato?!”

“Chill, guys.” Korra appeared from behind Asami, her bob pulled back into a short tail, her tone firm and authoritative. “You’re acting like newbies. Give her some space.”

“How’d she sign up for our section?” The gold-eyed woman asked, waving the folded paper at Korra.

“Sheena’s out,” Korra replied. She took the paper and handed it back to Asami.

“For the _season_?” The third woman asked.

When Korra nodded, understanding crested over all of the women in the gym that had come over to see what was going on. Their shoulders drooped a little collectively.

“Fuck,” the gold-eyed woman huffed.

“Yeah,” Korra sighed. She put a hand on Asami’s shoulder, pointing at the group of women. “Asami, this is Fumi, Miko, Gita, Rena, Umeko, Yamini, and Laila. Squad, this is Asami Sato – our _classmate_. So stop being weird.”

Fumi, the gold-eyed woman, huffed an incredulous laugh. “We’re not the one with the po-”

“Why in Vaatu’s tail are y’all blocking the damn door?!”

Korra stiffened beside her as the group of women in front of her looked like sheepish teenagers. Asami looked behind her to see an extremely tall woman in a white track suit with gold accents standing behind her with a clipboard in hand. A whistle and a lanyard of keys dangled from her neck, accentuating the flatness of her chest. Her eyes were a reddish-brownish-gold, and her salt-and-pepper hair was cropped close, the longer hair slightly spiked at the top. Asami assumed this intimidating woman was the J. Hanh listed as the instructor.

“Sorry, Coach,” Korra replied, pulling Asami further inside and out of the coach’s path into the gym.

Coach moved on, berating the group as a whole. “And how many times have I told y’all not to shoot around at this end? Haul your lazy asses to the other goal before you hurt someone!”

“Yes, Coach,” the group replied, including Asami. Asami backed up further until her butt bumped into something. She turned around to discover a large, black-tarp cart filled with various mesh laundry bags. One of them appeared to hold orange plastic cones and circles; another held off-white and gold jersey tank tops.

A sharp, high-pitched, metallic whistle seized Asami’s attention.

“Class starts in five!!” Coach bellowed, noting the time remaining on the clock before strolling to half-court and taking up a position on the sideline, reading something on her clipboard with a frown. “Waters! Sato!”

“Come on,” Korra muttered, lightly tugging on Asami’s upper arm. The pair walked quickly over to the older woman and waited for her to stop reading from her clipboard.

She made eye contact with Asami first. “Asami Sato?” When Asami nodded, she continued. “Coach Jun Hanh. You play?”

“Basketball?” Asami clarified.

“No. Badminton,” Coach Hanh quipped, rolling her eyes.

Asami frowned. She was beginning not to like this woman. “No. I do not play basketball. Or badminton, for that matter.”

Coach Hanh raised an eyebrow. “Do you play any sports?”

“I practice martial arts,” Asami replied. “Does that count?”

“Hm.” The woman continued to stare at her, then turned her attention to Korra. “Waters. She’s with you.”

“Yes, Coach.”

“Sato,” the coach addressed Asami again. This time, her tone was less aggressive; just as serious, but more concerned. “This is an advanced section for basketball players. It’s called 1101 because all RCU offers is 1101. I don’t know how you managed to sign up for this section, but since you did I’m not going to kick you out. No one signs up for a 5:30 basketball class unless they really want it or really need it.”

“Thank you, Coach Hanh,” Asami said. “I’ll do my best.”

“As long as you show up, don’t piss me off, and don’t die,” the coach quipped, “you’ve got an ‘A’. I’m not going to slow down the pace, so if you can’t keep up for the love of Raava _please_ sit down. I mean that. I don’t want you hurting yourself for a measly one-hour credit class. Understood?”

“I don’t need-”

“ _Understood_?”

“Yes. Coach,” Asami huffed.

“Good. Waters is team captain. She’ll show you the ropes. Alright?”

Both women nodded. The Coach jutted her chin in the direction of the pulled out bleachers. Asami assumed they’d been dismissed.

“Is she _always_ like that?” Asami muttered to the shorter woman.

“Pretty much,” Korra chuckled. “She’s tough, but she’s fair. Besides, coaching a team is like leading a pack of arctic wolves. She’s the alpha.”

_Fitting description._ “So,” Asami huffed, plopping down on the bench and setting her books aside. “Something tells me I won’t be needing these.”

“Probably not,” Korra smirked. “We do more running than reading.”

“I think I can handle that,” Asami said. “I run three miles every morning.”

The team captain barked a laugh, pulling her lips in to stop herself. “Yeeeaahhh. It’s … not the same.”

“Professional basketball players only run an average of 2.5 miles per game,” Asami said, raising an eyebrow. “I doubt a class is going to be that intense.”

“Asami,” Korra sighed, sitting next to her. “Most of that isn’t _running_ ; it’s flat out _sprinting_. And this isn’t a class; This is practice.”

“What?”

“It’s how teams get around intercollegiate rules,” Korra explained, waving as more women entered the gym. “We can’t have an official practice until after the autumn equinox. That’s about five months not practicing as a team. But, we can all sign up for the same section of a basketball class and do all the things we would do in practice.”

“Isn’t that cheating?”

“Nothing in the rules against it, as long as it’s technically open to all students.” Korra tilted her head towards Asami, one eyebrow cocked.

“Let me guess: there are fifteen players on the team, and you were all enrolled before registration opened,” Asami sighed.

“There _were_ fifteen of us,” Korra said, nodding toward the women on the court. “Only fourteen now.”

“Well, that explains why everyone was so confused about me being here.”

“Yeah,” Korra grinned.

“Why did – Sheena? – quit the team?”

“Pregnant,” Korra shrugged.

“Ah.”

Korra held up a finger, her gaze focused on the scoreboard. At one minute, a loud buzzer sounded and the women who held basketballs jogged over to a metal cart by the coach to return them. At 20 seconds remaining, Korra began a loud, rhythmic clapping, standing up as she did. The other women who weren’t returning basketballs joined in as they all (Asami included) gravitated toward the painted moose-lion.

When the buzzer sounded at zero, the rhythm increased and the women began chanting something Asami couldn’t quite catch in the poor acoustics. Korra stood in the middle of the circle of women, clearly the shortest of them all, her eyes bright with anticipation. They fed off of her energy, the clapping and chanting rounding faster and louder until Korra held one hand and the circle collapsed upon her. Fourteen hands piled on top of the team captain’s.

“Team on three!” Korra yelled, her tone deep. “One! Two!”

“TEAM!!!” the women echoed as deeply as each voice could register.

“Okay, Ladies!” Coach Hanh had walked up to the circle, which naturally formed into a half-circle so that all could see the coach clearly. Asami noted that some of the women automatically leaned against one another. “As you probably already know, Sheena is no longer an active member of our team. She is still a student, so you can ask her why. I’m not at liberty to say.”

Several knowing glances were exchanged. Three women giggled; Fumi rolled her eyes at them.

“I expect my veterans to whip you freshmen into shape,” Coach Hanh continued, eyeing the gigglers. “I do _not_ want you three gaggling together. You’re here to learn. Don’t waste my time and yours by teaching each other bad habits.

“We have a novice in our class.” The coach turned her head toward Asami. “Asami Sato. I expect y’all to represent yourselves and our university well. Do _not_ disappoint me.”

“Yes, Coach!” The “veterans” responded, with the three freshmen mimicking a half-breath behind them.

Apparently satisfied, Coach Hanh picked up her whistle from its resting place against her sternum. “Ten laps!”

Upon the whistle, Korra led the team to the bold, black outer lines of the court and started jogging at a smooth, easy pace. They followed in a pack, getting the blood flowing as they started their semester. Some of them even gossiped as they jogged, discussing people Asami didn’t know in low tones.

As the class approached the end of the last lap, Coach Hanh’s whistle blew again. “Base line!”

Asami followed Korra and the rest of the team to the bold, black line underneath one of the fiberglass goals. The women formed five lines of three, evenly spaced; Asami stood underneath the goal directly behind Korra. She tried not to stare as Korra swung her arms and then touched her toes, loosening up her taut muscles. Other women stretched, also. Asami touched her toes, wrapping her hands around her ankles to get a good hamstring stretch before standing up and pulling each foot behind her, stretching her quadriceps.

Coach Hanh blew the whistle, and the first five women lined up, low and ready to take off. “Suicides! Ready!”

_Suicides?!_

The whistle blew and the women took two quick steps and touched an imaginary line between the starting line and the free throw line, then pivoted and took two quick steps to touch the starting line again. They pivoted, sprinted to the free throw line, pivoted, and ran back to the starting line.

Asami couldn’t help but stare at Korra as she pivoted and ran to touch the top of the three-point arc and back to start. Her blue eyes were fierce, her expression determined, her demeanor focused. With each sprint, she pushed off with incredible power, the muscles in her calves and thighs rippling. When she approached each line, she squeaked the balls of her feet into the varnish with tiny steps to slow herself down enough to touch the floor. She leaned opposite her momentum, never losing her center of gravity, a masterpiece of power and grace.

By the time Korra touched the free throw line on the opposite end of the court, the other four women were just making it back to the starting line from the opposite three-point arc. The experienced players awaiting their turns were yelling encouragements, urging their teammates to catch up. When Korra touched the bold line underneath the opposite goal and pivoted, three of the women were approaching the imaginary line, while one was just reaching the starting line from the opposite free throw line.

Blue eyes sparkled, a small smile gracing Korra’s lips as she approached the starting line again. She tapped, pivoted, and pushed off with more power than before, stretching her legs to the limit as she hurtled down the court to the opposite end of the court. She didn’t slow down until she crossed the line, her stride bouncing as she shortened her steps before practically running into the brick wall. Brown fingers interlocked on top of chocolate hair, blue chest heaved as lungs expanded and collapsed, flushed lips parted as the team captain sucked in oxygen while watching the other four women finally catch up.

_That’s_ _why they’re called suicides,_ Asami thought, grimacing.

“Line up!” Coach Hanh yelled. Asami took her place at the starting line, exhaling to calm her nerves. She met Korra’s blue eyes with her green. “Ready!”

On the whistle, Asami took off. She thought she was a fast runner, but the other four women were touching the three-point arc before she’d made it to the free-throw line. Her lungs were straining; her legs felt clumsy; she almost fell trying to squeak her feet to slow down. She could hear Korra yelling her name, and she tried to push harder, but her muscles seemed to be out of fuel. When the other women in her group finished, she was just touching the opposite three-point arc. By the time she was running the last leg toward Korra, her heart was pounding so loudly in her ears that she could barely hear every voice in the gym cheering her on.

Upon reaching the wall, Asami just leaned against it, wet forehead against the white-painted brick, eyes wide open as she gasped for air. When hands grasped her arms by the elbows and raised them above her head, even her reflexes didn’t have the energy to resist.

“Breathe slowly,” Korra advised. “In. Out. In. Out.”

It took a few breaths for Asami to match the pattern, but once she did the dull roar in her ears began to dissipate. She heard the whistle; heard Korra yell, “Go Deena! Dig in!” After a few more breaths, Asami pulled her arms weakly forward; Korra let go.

“You good?”

Asami nodded, locking her fingers on top of her head as she turned to watch Deena. Korra cheered on their teammate. She just watched, suddenly aware of the sweat pouring down her own back. _What have I gotten myself into?_

When the last wave thundered across the finish line, Coach Hanh blew her whistle again. “Water!”

Asami gladly trudged over to the bleachers where she’d left her belongings. The team strolled outside of the gym to the water fountains in the hall, chatting as they went. She plopped down onto the wooden seat, forcing herself to take small sips from her water bottle.

“Good effort, Sato.”

The engineer looked up at Coach Hanh. The woman was smiling down at her, warmly. Motherly, even. “Thanks,” she huffed after she swallowed.

“Remember, if you need to take a break, do it. Don’t wait for permission. Okay?”

Asami nodded, taking another sip from her water bottle. The coach nodded in response, then went back to her clipboard. The exhausted woman looked over to the door to see Korra stroll back into the gym in a hushed exchange with Fumi. The way gold irises kept darting in her direction, she knew they were talking about her. When blue eyes caught her gaze, a small part of her felt a flicker of excitement, like she was a teenager back in boarding school.

“You okay?” The Water Tribe woman sat down next to her.

“Yeah,” Asami said. “I definitely understand why you call those ‘suicides’.”

Korra laughed, the low, melody blowing life into the flicker. “It gets easier. We’re probably going to do passing drills after this.”

“Does that involve sprinting?”

“No,” Korra chuckled.

“Thank Raava,” Asami sighed. “Coach said I made a good effort.”

“You did,” Korra agreed. “I’m impressed.”

“I was so slow,” the CEO pouted.

“No, you weren’t. You can’t compare your speed to ours. We’re athletes,” Korra chuckled. “We’ve been doing this since we were in single digits.”

“No wonder you’re so fine.” Asami’s eyes flew open as her words registered in her oxygen-deprived brain and a brown eyebrow arched over a teasing blue eye. “Fit! I meant fit!”

“Riiight,” Korra drawled, a sultry grin spreading across her face.

Fortunately for Asami, Coach Hanh blew her whistle and announced the next set of drills. Korra was back to business, teaching the CEO how to step into passes and keep her elbows close to her rib cage for more control and power. The remaining hour of the class flew by, and Asami was a little disappointed when they broke out of the huddle and Korra was immediately involved in a quiet conversation with the coach.

A passing Fumi patted her shoulder. “Good job, Sato. See ya Wednesday!”

Asami smiled wanly, her unconditioned muscles already protesting as they cooled. “Thanks. See you Wednesday.”

Gathering her supplies, she trudged into the locker room behind the other women. They were all talking and yelling across the rows. She could hear showers already running; some were halfway undressed before they took their shower caddies out of their lockers. Asami wasn’t uncomfortable being naked in front of other women (she went to an all-girls boarding school, after all). She was, however, only ten minutes away from the privacy of her own home where she could collapse and keep her dignity.

Decision made, Asami pulled out her suitcase, dug out her phone, locked her locker, and waved goodbye to the other women. As she exited into the main hall, Korra was pushing the cart of supplies out of the gym. Her hair was back down, short strands already beginning to dry. Despite the rigorous workout, she seemed full of energy.

“Hey!” Korra flashed a lopsided grin. “I was hoping I’d catch you.”

“Oh?” Asami paused as the shorter woman approached. “Did I forget something?”

“Yeah.” Korra glanced quickly around the empty hall before lowering her voice. “My number.”

Asami giggled, amazed she had any blood left to blush. “Smooth.”

“I try.” Korra shrugged one shoulder. “So?”

Rolling her green eyes, Asami unlocked her phone with her thumbprint and opened her contacts. “Here.”

“Awesome.” Beaming, Korra quickly typed in her name and number, making certain to call _and_ text herself before handing it back. “Okay if I text you tonight?”

“Eager, aren’t we?” Asami smirked, arching an eyebrow. She inhaled involuntarily, as blue eyes bore into her with a smoldering intensity. The shorter woman stepped closer, leaving only an inch or so of thick, damp air between them.

“Yes,” Korra murmured. “I am.”

Asami remained still as the Water Tribe woman stepped back, winked, and sauntered back to her cart. As she wheeled past the flustered green-eyed woman, she turned her head over her bare, muscular shoulder.

“Nice shorts, by the way.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was not expecting this chapter to be this long!!!!
> 
> I think I went overboard on the details, but I figured Asami would be pretty observant in a new environment.
> 
> I don't have a beta, so I apologize for any errors.


	3. Boss

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I changed the ratings to “Explicit” from “Mature”.  
> About this chapter – this is my first time writing smut. It was even more difficult than I thought it would be. You writers that write this on a regular basis without it sounding like a terrible 1970s porn flick? KUDOS TO YOU!!!

Asami hated Mondays.

Mondays were filled with the worst of her corporate responsibilities: paperwork and meetings. Most Mondays, the drive to work was the best part of the young CEO’s day. That Monday, she had something to look forward to other than her textbooks. Asami couldn’t help but smile as she recalled Korra’s jubilant expression when she’d handed over her phone.

Her smile dissolved 15 minutes into her meeting with her department heads. Kuo, the charismatic head of her public relations department, had distributed a printout. On the very first page was the picture of her at the last gala in her ( _gorgeous_ ) red gown, followed by a scathing gossip column offering ever more insulting insinuations about why she was single.

She furrowed her brows and sat back in her high-backed chair, palms deliberately relaxed off the edge of the armrests. She waited for the rest of the department heads to finish reading the “article”. She’d heard a few smothered chuckles, but most of them just uncomfortably cleared their throats as they cautiously shifted their lines of sight between their boss and their bowtied colleague.

Kuo, being Kuo, was the first to speak: “I already know what you’re going to say.”

Asami arched an eyebrow. She was pleased to see his throat cartilage bob against his bowtie.

“We all know the time and energy you have sacrificed to keep Future Industries running after your father’s untimely death,” Kuo said. All of the heads nodded around the table. “But the public doesn’t see you working at your desk into the next morning, skipping meals, _expertly_ hiding the bags under your eyes.

“All they see is this,” he continued, tapping the portfolio in front of him. “She’s beautiful, she’s young, she’s _rich_. Why is she still single?”

“So, I’m a psychotic, man-hating bitch,” Asami said. “Because I don’t walk into a gala with a man. A gala full of rich, powerful, single men. Who didn’t walk in with a woman.”

“They were hoping to walk out with you,” quipped Daichi, the head of her legal department, his mellow baritone easily carrying across the room. Half of the table chuckled.

“I thought I’d already settled this issue with the Daily Republican bio,” Asami said.

“That was last year,” Kuo said. “The public has a pretty short memory.”

“Forgive me, Miss Sato.” Seung, the head of aviation, leaned forward on the table, her asymmetrical short black hair just grazing the collar of her jacket. She fixed her grey eyes on Kuo. “If this is going to blow over next week, why the fuck are we wasting time on it?”

“Because Varrick,” Chung, the head of global growth, sighed. Asami noted how the pen in his hand bent slightly under his thumb. “He can’t beat our quality or our long-term costs on the polar exploration projects. But, he _is_ Water Tribe-”

“And he knows how to use marketing to his advantage,” Kuo interrupted. “Unalaq is the most conservative world leader on the planet. Varrick is already using this to influence negotiations.”

The young CEO tapped her fingers in the air as she thought. The Northern Council of Elders were just cronies and royal family members. The Northern Water Tribe was a monarchy, and Chief Unalaq’s views on sexuality and women’s roles in society were well known. She’d intentionally kept the FI bid on the high end. If she _had_ to do business with a bigot, she fully intended him to _pay_ for it.

The Southern Council of Elders was a democratic body, elected by their respective regions. Their chief, Tonraq, was elected amongst them. The oil and gas deposits in the South were untapped, mainly because no one had been able to safely access them aside from the pitch that naturally forced its way to the surface. His wife’s family owned most of the land. Unfortunately, Tonraq was also Unalaq’s elder brother. “What about the Southern Council?”

“They’re still reviewing the last set of contracts. Even Varrick’s people haven’t heard back from them,” Daichi said.

“There’s still a lot of tension between the Tribes,” Seung added. “They may have avoided a war, but the North is still prepared to invade. And the South knows it.”

“Suggestions?” Asami glanced around the table. Kuo, Chung and Daichi exchanged glances with each other.

“Well,” Kuo began, “We could take a page from Varrick’s playbook.”

“Meaning?”

“Acting.” Kuo smiled. “We hire someone to be your boyfriend.”

Seung snorted and sat back in her chair, folding her arms. “This oughta be good.”

Asami narrowed her eyes at Kuo. “No.”

“The threats from the animal rights’ activists are getting more … aggressive,” Daichi said. “We’ve filed complaints against several individuals and organizations for threats to the company and to _you_ , personally. RCPD investigated _five_ bomb threats that night.”

“So?” Asami rolled her eyes. “My father received death threats at least once a week. People don’t like change, but they _love_ convenience. We’re _Future_ Industries. We always take great care to respect the environment and the people who live where we build. Once we prove our benefit, they get over it.”

“Chief Beifong recommends that you increase security for any public appearances,” Kuo said. “The image of you walking into a fundraiser with armed guards is _not_ the image we want to present to the public. But … a young officer … who looks good in a tux….”

“A bodyguard?” Asami scoffed. “How’s he going to stop an _explosion_? And I can handle myself in a fight.”

“In a fist fight, sure. But guns?” Seung said. “It’s a little hard to hide body armor under your outfits.”

Asami cut a glare at the former United Forces pilot. The woman just shrugged in response.

“We’re not asking you to make a decision now,” Kuo said.

“I’ve already made my decision. I said, ‘No’. Zia,” she caught the eye of her head of finance. “How deep can we cut the Southern bid if we assume we won’t win the Northern one?”

As the petite woman worked through the numbers and answered questions from the other department heads, Asami pasted on her “meeting face” and tuned out. She already knew the estimates to the dollar, having worked them out herself several times. She really, _really_ didn’t want to work with the North. It was just a gut feeling, but her father always told her to trust her gut.

Chief Beifong’s warnings to increase her security were hardly new. She’d flipped a switch when Asami moved into the little house across the street from campus. She also didn’t appreciate Asami’s suggestion that the neighborhood would benefit from a more “appropriate” police presence. It was an older neighborhood, with a significant number of single-family homes converted into rental properties. Students lived in most of them, but some were occupied by elderly people with transient grandchildren.

Asami felt her presence had prevented the surrounding area from lapsing into degradation. In fact, a grocery store that was slated to close decided not to sell and instead remodeled. And though protestors would picket in front of Future Industries and the Sato Estate, she’d never seen them crowding the sidewalk in front of the little woodframe house with the red door.

Once the two-hour meeting was over, all of the department heads left except for Kuo. It was the CEO’s habit to linger for a few minutes, to address any concerns that her vice-presidents didn’t want to discuss during the meeting. She scrutinized Kuo, standing up as he approached. “Was that really necessary?”

“My job is protect your image and the image of Future Industries.”

“The precedent of equal treatment regardless of sexual orientation was set by my father.” Asami folded her arms. “It’s _not_ a secret. I don’t need a bodyguard. And I don’t appreciate my VPs trying to force me into a closet in order to make deals with bigots.”

“You are _bi_ -sexual, Miss Sato. You could marry a man next year, who knows? Would the loss of _millions_ be worth it? It’s the _perception_ of your sexuality that Varrick’s manipulating. If we can-”

“ _No_.” Asami rubbed her temples, a headache threatening. A lopsided grin and bright blue eyes flashed across her mind. “The day started off _so_ well,” she muttered.

Kuo knitted his eyebrows as he frowned. “Is there … someone? If you’re dating someone I should know about it.”

“You are _not_ my father,” Asami growled.

“Please, Miss Sato. I’m just trying to do my job. If you are dating someone, I need to be in front of it. If the press asks questions we need to have a statement ready. Male or female.”

_He has a point_. She dropped her hands, putting one on her hip. “Female. Maybe.”

“How did you meet?”

“Class. I had my first P.E. elective this morning,” Asami said.

“Ah, yes,” Kuo nodded. “RCU bureaucracy. I remember it well. I took aerobics. Good times.”

Asami rolled her eyes. “My class just _happens_ to be the unofficial practice for the Women’s Basketball team.”

Kuo groaned. He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. “ _Not_ Korra Waters.”

Asami blinked. “How did you know?”

“It’s my _job_ to know people,” he sighed. “Of course _you_ – a beautiful, intelligent, passionate, talented woman – would be attracted to the _most_ beautiful, intelligent, passionate, talented woman on the _team_. Add muscles and she’s practically your wet dream.”

“I’m not a fan of your familiarity this morning,” Asami said.

“What happened? Exactly?” Kuo sat down in a chair, offering a contrite expression and an apologetic tone.

Asami remained standing and shrugged. “Not much, really. We exchanged phone numbers after class. She said she’d text me tonight. Why?”

“Korra is the _estranged_ only child of Chief Tonraq.”

Asami sat back down in her chair. “You’re joking.”

“Nope.” Kuo popped the “p”. “It’s not mainstream news because she left before he became chief. They haven’t spoken to or about each other in years.”

“Let me guess,” Asami sighed as she leaned back in her chair. “He doesn’t approve of her romantic interest in women.”

“Bullseye. She ran away at 17 and she’s _never_ been back.”

Asami pouted and blew out a puff of air. “Right.”

“I won’t tell you who to date-”

“If you want to keep your job, stop talking.” Asami stood up. Kuo stood up as she collected her things. She turned to the door without looking at him, applying more force than necessary to open the heavy wooden door.

Asami trusted her gut, and something about Korra felt _right_. She wasn’t sure how she was going to make this work, but she wasn’t going to give up without a fight. And a fight is _exactly_ what Unalaq and Kuo and anyone else who stood in her way was going to get.

***

Asami looked up as the usual cleaning lady, Aja, unlocked the door to her private office. They smiled at each other, Asami knowing that the woman had both earplugs in her ears. Sure enough, the vacuum clicked on and the woman began dancing as she pushed and pulled the machine across the carpeted floor. The engineer noted the sound of the motor and jotted a reminder to look into a bulk purchase of new vacuum cleaners.

She tapped her phone to see the time. It was after ten. The thought of how much time she’d spent working on contract revisions made her tired. She squinted at the screen as she yawned. She’d put her phone on silent so she could concentrate. She knew those new contracts were going to keep her late.

She’d missed several messages, but she only opened one set of text messages.

_ASAMI: Asami’s number!!!

_KORRA:  Hey! U busy?

_KORRA: Of course u r ;)

_KORRA: I bet ur inventing the flying car or something

_KORRA: Text me when u get home. I’ll be up

_KORRA: I just want to know ur okay

Asami smiled at the messages. The second message was sent at 7:02p. The last was sent ten minutes ago. She’d already decided she would call the Water Tribe woman when she got home. What they had to discuss was too sensitive for text messaging. She’d actually prefer face-to-face, but it was late and she didn’t know where Korra lived.

Stretching against the weariness of the day, the CEO gathered her belongings, waved to Aja as the older woman threw away the remains of her takeway dinner, and headed to her car. The short drive back to campus was even shorter, a heaviness pressing behind her sternum as she thought about the phone call she had to make when she got home. Once safely inside, she headed straight for the bedroom. Her first intention was to take a shower before making the phone call to calm her nerves, but then she changed her mind.

“Just get it over with, Sato,” Asami said to the silence. She opened the contact and hit the phone icon. When her frowning face filled the screen, she realized she’d hit the video chat by accident. She shrugged as the phone rang. “Not face-to-face, but it’ll do.”

The socialite sighed in resignation as she smiled demurely at the screen. She fleetingly wished she’d touched up her makeup. _She’s already seen me at my worst._

The next moment, her face minimized to the corner and her screen was filled with slick brown, bright blue, and matte black bouncing in rhythm against a glaringly white fluorescent background.

“Hey!” Korra huffed as she jogged. Strands of dark brown hair clung to her forehead, a lopsided grin beaming through the screen. Her torso was clad only in a black sports bra, accessorized with a blue-accented silver Bluetooth headset around her neck. Sweat glistened on her flexing torso, detailing the definition of her abdominal muscles.

_Oh my Spirits she has a six pack._

“Asami?”

“Hmm?” Asami blinked as she forced herself to focus on Korra’s eyes. “What was that?”

A knowing smirk replaced Korra’s grin. “I said, “I was hoping you’d call’.”

“Oh! Oh, right. Sorry.” Asami closed her eyes for a second. _Focus, Sato_. “I’m sorry I missed you earlier. Work was crazy.”

“It’s cool,” Korra chuckled. “I figured. Worst case I’d see you Wednesday, right?”

“Yeah. Wednesday.”

“Something wrong?”

“Actually, yes.”

“O-kay.” Korra fiddled with something by the phone. Asami heard beeping as the athlete’s body came to a standstill, chest heaving. “What’s up?”

“Is Tonraq your father?”

Korra narrowed her eyes, her jaw and neck tensed. “Why?”

“Varrick is using some dumb gossip column to paint me as a man-hating lesbian,” Asami sighed. “My VPs are worried the image will sour contract negotiations for the polar oil-and-gas exploration projects.”

Korra’s expression switched from suspicion to anger to guilt to frustration. She huffed and looked off to the side, then ran her hand through her hair as she looked back at the screen. “Fuck,” she breathed. “I’m sorry. I-” She shook her head and sighed.

“It’s not your fault,” Asami said. “Personally, I’d rather not do business with hatemongering bigots.”

“My dad’s not like that,” Korra said in rush. She paused before she continued. “My uncle … yeah. He’s the fucking _worst_. But Dad is ....” She trailed off again. “You know what? It doesn’t matter. In the South, property goes from parent to child, not parent to spouse. The only person you need to talk to is my mom.”

“We still need access to the ports, permits, local labor-”

“Ugh!” Korra groaned, rubbing her hand down her face. “Okay, okay. You _do_ need to talk to my dad. He’s not … homophobic, exactly. He gets along with most people.” She looked off, glaring at nothing. “It’s just _me_ he has a problem with.”

Asami offered a sympathetic smile. “Been there.”

“Your dad?”

“He was a fervent believer in equality for all people. He accepted everyone as they were, from homeless beggar to world leader. Everyone … except me. From me, he expected perfection.” Asami sighed, the sting of her father’s greatest failing still deep enough to make her wince. “Future Industries was the first private business in the United Republic to put protections against sexual orientation harassment _in writing_. However, when my boarding school roommate and I were caught sleeping in the same bed, naked…. He wasn’t so _enlightened_.”

Korra whistled. “How old were you?”

“Sixteen,” Asami chuckled. “I was kicked out of the prestigious Kiyoshi All Girls Academy of Ba Sing Se. Dad decided to homeschool me after that.”

“Was she worth it?”

Asami wrinkled her nose. “No. She was just convenient.”

“Ouch. Harsh.” Korra shook her head. “If my uncle knows about that there’s no way you’re getting that project.”

“I never thought we would. And on the off chance we might, I made certain to quote the highest margin on every particular,” Asami said. “Fucking tabloid writers. I’m not even a lesbian. The asshole couldn’t even get my sexual orientation right. I’m _bi_ sexual.”

“Asami-”

“ _Not_ that that makes it any easier to get a girlfriend, oh _noooo_.” Asami paced the floor between the foot of her bed and her desk. “It’s like I’m wearing a fucking scarlet letter. And guys seem to think that bisexual translates into ‘exhibitionist slut’. I’m not passing judgment on the sexual activities of consenting adults, but I _don’t_ do threesomes. I’m an only child. I. Don’t. Share.”

“ _Asami_.”

Asami looked down at the phone in her hand. Korra looked back up at her, bright blue eyes shining over a lopsided grin. Asami smiled back. She could feel her cheeks starting to flush. “Sorry. It’s been a day.”

“I noticed,” Korra smirked. “I feel you on the lesbian thing, though. It’s stupid. I mean, I _identify_ as lesbian, but I did date a guy. We didn’t work out, but, we’re still friends. It’s a spectrum, you know?”

“Thank you! Exactly!”

 Korra laughed, grasping the handlebars and leaning forward a little. The action lowered and deepened her cleavage. “So? Where does that leave us?”

“Do you want the correct answer? Or the truth?”

Korra raised her eyebrows. “Both.”

“The correct answer is: ‘Let’s see where this goes’.”

“And the truth?”

“You have a fucking six-pack and I’m uncomfortably aware of my panties.”

Korra barked a laugh, ducking her head. She looked back up the screen with a bashful tilt. “Yeaaah. That’s why I’m here at-” she frowned at the screen. “Eleven-thirteen.”

“Mmm.” Asami raked her eyes over Korra’s torso, pulling her bottom lip between her teeth.

Korra licked her lips and cleared her throat. “I’m, uh, in the A-building. If, you know, you wanted some company?”

“Sex in the gym? Not my thing.”

“Is that the ‘correct answer’ or the truth?”

“Both.” Asami smiled down at the screen. “Can you come over?”

“Are you home?”

“Yeah,” Asami sighed, using her free hand to rub at the soreness in the back of her neck. “Just walked in right before I called.”

“I can be there in twenty.”

“I live across the street from the gym. It’s-”

“The house with the red door, next to Professor Haru,” Korra finished.

“Right.” For once, Asami was glad half the campus knew where she lived. “Right.”

“Asami,” Korra licked her lips, her blue eyes serious. “Are you sure? I d-”

“Twenty minutes. Don’t keep me waiting.” Asami winked at the screen and ended the call. Korra was sweet, and she appreciated the concern, but she’d had her fill of being a responsible adult for one 24-hour period.

“Fuck it. I’m in college, right? I’m allowed.” She walked into the full bathroom. It was in-between the two bedrooms and had three doors, allowing access from each bedroom and the hallway. It was also huge, with a giant clawed-foot cast-iron tub and a modern shower with a tiled-bench on one wall.

Asami turned on the shower, then set down her phone on its bathroom charging caddy on the sink counter. She quickly stripped as the water warmed, putting her clothes in the designated bins so her cleaning service knew what was to be laundered and what was to be dry-cleaned.

She was careful to keep most of her hair dry. It had been years, but “stay ready so you don’t have to get ready” was a motto drilled into her by both her father and the “feminine presentation” instructor at boarding school. She was hair-free where she preferred to be, her toenails and fingernails were freshly painted, and her moisturizing body wash was infused with her favorite perfume, so she knew she smelled good without her skin tasting like chemicals.

Out of the shower, she oiled her skin, towel-dried her body and quickly blow-dried her hair on low. She applied a thin layer of anti-perspirant to each armpit (if Korra got a mouthful of aluminum chlorohydrate, so be it. She refused to stink). She tucked a clean, burgundy towel around her torso, securing it a little lower than usual to reveal more cleavage. She applied a tinted lip gloss (sweetened with honey) and studied her reflection for a moment. On a whim, she grabbed a pair of green-glass bedazzled black lacquered chopsticks and wound her hair up in a strategically messy top knot. Once she’d arranged the tendrils of black waves to her satisfaction, she slipped on her bamboo flip-flops.

She hurried back into the bedroom, plugging up her laptop and tucking her bag under the desk. The doorbell rang, and Asami smirked as the time showed exactly 20 minutes had passed. She walked through her bedroom, down the hall, crossed the living room and entered the hall to the front door. Her blinds were always drawn and the curtains closed, so she was confident as she strode through the house. She thanked the spirits she had the means to afford a good housekeeping service.

Once at the front door, she peaked through the peephole to see a distorted image of Korra, her hands on her head, her blue eyes focused on the door. She was wearing black shorts and a blue t-shirt, and a different pair of blue hightops with black designs. Asami opened the door just enough for Korra to see her face.

“Hi,” Asami quietly greeted.

“Hi,” Korra replied, her voice airy. Asami noticed her chest was rising and falling rather fast, and the hem of her shirt was darker where she’d probably wiped sweat off her face.

“Did you run here?”

Korra nodded, one side of her lips pulling into a grin. “Had to shower.”

Asami stepped back in response, shielding herself from public view as Korra entered her home. She closed the door behind the athlete, locking it before she turned to face her guest. Her breath caught in her throat as she faced widened pupils in dark, intense blue eyes. She felt like an artic hen, frozen under the hungry gaze of a polar bear dog. She shivered involuntarily.

Neither woman moved for a few seconds. Korra took the first step, cautiously closing the distance between them, her blue eyes never leaving Asami’s green. Asami inhaled as fingers gently stroked her cheek, brushing back a lock of hair.

“You are so beautiful,” Korra whispered, her eyes wide with what Asami could only call awe.

Emboldened, Asami stepped closer until their torsos touched. “So are you.”

The athlete inhaled sharply, eyes flitting down to where their breasts touched. Korra swallowed and looked back up, gaze flitting between green eyes and glistening lips, her hand softly cupping Asami’s cheek.

“I’m wai-ting,” Asami singsonged, her voice soft as she offered a small smile of encouragement.

Korra chuckled, her hand shifting from cheek to nape of neck. “ _Now_ who’s eager?”

Asami was immediately engulfed in salt and warm breath and damp skin pressed against her lips. She instinctively grasped biceps, moaning as she squeezed. Korra smiled into the kiss, pressing closer, causing Asami to step backward until the wall stopped their momentum.

Korra’s lips were slightly chapped, but soft. No, only the inner part of her lips were chapped, probably from licking them so often. The outer part was incredibly smooth and supple. The demarcation between her lips and the rest of her face was a line of firm, nearly cartilaginous tissue. She refocused on the inner lips, and they parted slightly, a warm breath caressing her own.

They continued to kiss, lips parting more, tongues hesitant then insistent. Hands shifted from biceps to shoulders to the back of neck. Soft moans sighed into the night. Just as one of Asami’s hands were trailing from neck to collarbone to side of breast, a phone began to ring.

Korra broke away from the kiss with a curse and an apologetic grimace. “Sorry. She’ll just keep calling.” She fished her phone out of her pocket and ran her other hand through her hair. “Hey, I-”

“ _Where the fuck are you?!_ ” The female voice was fairly clear in the quiet hallway. “ _It’s nearly midnight!_ ”

“I know, I’m sorry. I’m safe, okay? I’ll call you when I’m on my way.” Korra rubbed the back of her neck.

“ _You’re still at the gym?!_ ”

“Uh. No.”

“ _OhmyRaava seriously Kor?!_ ”

“Look, Fumi.” Korra turned to the side, her thumb pressing the volume button. “I’m fine. I’ll call you later.” Pause. “I don’t know.” Pause. “I don’t know.” Pause. “When have I _ever_ told you that?” Pause. “’Cause you can’t keep a fucking secret.” Korra sighed. “Yeah, okay. O- _kaay_. ’Night.”

Korra turned back toward Asami with a shrug. “Sorry. We’re roommates.”

“It’s okay,” Asami said, taking the phone out of Korra’s hand. She set it on the hall table in the charging dock she never used. “I think it’s sweet you guys look out for each other.”

Korra ran a finger down the back of Asami’s arm, drawing her closer. “Who looks out for you?”

“I’m the boss,” Asami murmured, leaning forward. “I can handle myself.”

“Is that what you want?” Korra whispered over her lips. “I can leave, if you want me to?”

Asami shivered. “No. Stay.”

Korra roughly pulled her into another kiss, a muscular thigh teasing the space between Asami’s legs just as a tongue thrust under her own. The sensation was more intense than Asami anticipated, and she gasped as her legs trembled, clutching Korra’s back for balance.

Korra pressed her back against the wall, lips moving to the sensitive groove below her ear. “You are so fucking hot,” she whispered, teeth grazing skin.

Asami shuddered, digging her fingers into t-shirt covered flesh. “Mmm,” Asami hummed as Korra’s lips trailed down her neck.

Korra groaned as Asami shifted, the wetness between her legs making contact with tan skin. “Fuck.” Strong fingers edged between Asami and the wall, squeezing her buttocks. Asami gasped, pressing more of herself against Korra’s thigh, her own quadriceps quivering with the effort.

Korra pulled Asami closer as she kneaded red fingerprints into pale thighs, grinding her tan thigh closer to where Asami needed friction. “ _Fuck_ , Asami. I’ve been thinking about you all day.”

“My legs,” Asami whispered. Korra nodded, muscles rippling beneath her hands. Asami wrapped her fingers in short hair as she shifted to hook one leg around the shorter woman. She squealed as she was suddenly detached from the ground. When she opened her eyes her back was against the wall, her towel dangerously close to coming undone, her thighs secure in Korra’s grip. Blue eyes, dark with desire, raked over her flushed body.

Korra pressed closer until cloth-covered muscle made contact with her clit. Asami mewled at the sensation, hips involuntarily grinding into the shorter woman’s abdomen. The mental image of the muscles underneath increased the ache within her core. Their lips reconnected, tongues thrusting as Asami rubbed against flexing abs. Her breath was coming faster, her legs trembling anew.

The burgundy towel fell to the floor, the cool air rushing across her already hard nipples. She huffed in protest as Korra’s lips pulled away, then gasped in pleasure as they reattached around one nipple. Hot hands under her thighs readjusted, one hand trailing closer to her opening. She pressed her heels into solid muscle, hardly noticing her flip-flops falling off as she corded the fingers of both hands in chestnut hair.

“Fuck!” Green eyes flew open as a finger slid in and immediately hooked as it stroked back. It repeated the motion, the knuckle adding a surprisingly pleasant pressure to her back wall. “Oh! Korra! So-! I-!” A flick of tongue on tender nipple and the vibration of a deep groan against her clit and Asami was catapulted over the edge, her screams bouncing off the walls of the enclosed space. She clutched at the Water Tribe woman, barely registering lips shifting to her neck as waves of pleasure rolled through her.

Asami swallowed as she leaned her head back against the wall with a thud, wincing as one of the chopsticks stabbed her scalp. Her throat was incredibly dry, but she could feel the tips of Korra’s fingers massaging into the slick wet that had coated her thighs. “I-.” Asami swallowed again and cleared her throat. “I’ve never cum that fast.” She took a deep, shuddering breath. “Ever.”

Korra chuckled against her collarbone, teeth grazing the skin. “Good to know.”

“So,” Asami pulled Korra’s hair until blue eyes met her own. They were even darker than before, it that was possible. “How about I return the favor?”

A wolfish grin spread unevenly between tan cheeks. Asami squeaked as Korra jounced her in the air, causing her legs to lock around her waist as the athlete stepped away from the wall. “Which way?”

“Third door on the right.”

Asami dipped her head, bending so she could keep her shoulder from restricting Korra’s view. She inhaled salt and musk as she closed her eyes. She felt so _safe_. She was completely naked, in the arms of a woman she’d known less than 24 hours, after the best orgasm she could remember ever having. Granted, a slight tenderness told her she’d probably rubbed a little too enthusiastically against the cotton t-shirt, but as Korra carried her into her bedroom she was surprised at the lack of guilt or regret about her actions in the past hour.

And, when Korra laid her on the bed and stepped back to peel off the cum-soaked t-shirt to reveal those tantalizing abdominals, Asami felt no guilt or regrets about sitting up and running the pads of her fingers across them. She watched in fascination as they twitched and quivered under her touch. Her fingers started to toy with the band of Korra’s sports bra, then abruptly changed direction.

One slender hand pulled at the drawstring waistband to give the other hand more room to dive into the mesh shorts. Korra leaned forward with a groan as a long finger stroked against soaked cotton underwear, planting both hands on the bed beside Asami’s hips.

“Fuck,” Korra whispered, tucking her nose into the crook of Asami’s neck. Her breath was ragged and hot against pale skin.

“You’re _so_ wet. You like fucking the boss, don’t you,” Asami murmured. She felt Korra nod. “You liked watching me? Feeling me cum around your finger?”

Korra groaned in response, fingers snaking under Asami’s thighs. _Oh, I can sooo work with this_.

“Something tells me you won’t last much longer,” Asami murmured. She smiled as she felt Korra shake her head. “That’s probably a good thing. We don’t want President Raiko to see you fucking me on the meeting room table, now do we?”

The shorter woman’s entire body shuddered with a strained whimper. Asami found Korra’s pantyline. _Boyshorts, of course_ , she smirked as she slipped a finger under each edge, rubbing her fingertips along Korra’s outer labia. “It’s a good thing I wore a suit with a long skirt. I’ve been thinking about you _all_ morning, and my juices have soaked my thigh highs to the knees.”

Tan fingers pressed into Asami’s hamstrings, increasing her wetness seeping into the red-and-gold comforter. The only sound Korra made was a strangled breath. “I wore my burgundy g-string, just for you,” Asami purred. “I know you love to see it peeking between my ass cheeks.”

Korra swallowed. Hard. She pressed her lips firmly against the tight trapezius of Asami’s neck, breath rapidly ghosting across Asami’s shoulder. Asami readjusted her fingers, forcing Korra’s underwear to one side as she teased the dripping opening.

“I’m bending over the mahogany, my skirt up around my waist, my back arched from the angle of my _highest_ heels, my ass swaying as I look at you over my shoulder.” She pushed the cloth further to one side. “You run both hands up the inside of my slick thighs, before slipping in one finger beside my thong.”

Asami pushed in her middle finger, Korra stifling a strangled cry against her neck. “You slowly pump in. And out.” Asami mimicked her narration. “You see my juices dripping down your fingers to your wrist, so you slip in a second finger. You pump in. And out. Faster. Faster. Watching your fingers sink in and out of my tight, wet pussy.”

Asami felt Korra’s walls tighten around her fingers just before teeth sank into her shoulder. She bit her lip to stop herself from crying out as Korra pulsed around her fingers, more wetness gushing into her palm and the already soaked cotton boyshorts. Korra’s chest and shoulders heaved, though nothing more than a few choked whimpers escaped as the muscular woman shuddered against her.

Korra removed her teeth as the strongest contractions eased, panting heavily into Asami’s neck as Asami applied gentle pressure to the woman’s throbbing clit with the heel of a slender hand. After a minute or so, the athlete slumped against her, forcing Asami on her back with an “Oof!” under the dense weight.

She chuckled as Korra weakly tried to reposition. Asami managed to free herself and help the woman onto the bed. Korra sighed face-down into the comforter, eyes closed, blue hightops dangling off the edge of the bed. She blindly reached out a hand to her side and Asami entwined their fingers.

“You,” Korra huffed, her eyes still closed. “You are. Amazing.”

“Then I’ve repaid the favor,” Asami chuckled.

“ _Fuck_ , Asami. I’m still in my clothes. I’m still in my _shoes_ ,” Korra laughed weakly. “I _owe_ you.” She suddenly stiffened and cracked open one blue eye. “I-I mean….”

“It’s okay.” Asami smiled and squeezed Korra’s hand. “Although, next time, I’d love to go on a date first.”

Korra lifted her head at that, both blue eyes wide open and hopeful. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Asami winced as a muscle twitched. “Okay, next time we _start_ in the bed. My legs are _killing_ me.”

That heart-stopping, lopsided grin blossomed across Korra’s face. Asami found herself suddenly being tugged into Korra’s arms. She gladly returned the warm kiss, losing herself in the contrasting sensations of soft lips and firm muscle. She pulled away with a contented sigh, pecking Korra’s cute, round nose before settling her ear above the collar of Korra’s sports bra. She hummed as Korra pulled the chopsticks out of her hair, freeing the long locks with gentle strokes.

_So worth it_ , Asami thought, smiling as she listened to Korra’s heartbeat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those of you who didn’t know, I had major surgery. It sucked, but I’m better. It’s amazing how much that messes with your head. I’m still getting back into the swing of things, so keep your expectations low.

**Author's Note:**

> I had this idea and I thought, "why not?".


End file.
